The bridge was empty, yet sturdy. The wooden beams were strong, the stone supports smooth and steady. That was good, for the weight of the world would soon rest on that bridge.
The houses on the other side of the bridge were just as strong and sturdy. He spied the town's sept was made of stone, as was a large longhouse further south. Clearly he had picked the wrong side of the river to take as his own, for his side lacked such structures. Instead they had the local abattoir, brothel and town hovels. But if all proceeded as planned, these low places would be witness to the birth of a new kingdom, a free north, and a place in history and song.
"They aren't coming, Your Grace," GreatJon grumbled from beside him.
"They'll come," Robb said softly.
"And if they don't?"
"They know what will happen if they don't. That's why they'll come." He glanced up at the shadowy sky. "But not today, it seems."
They walked back through the town. The garrison of this half of the town had been replaced by his soldiers, but other than that the people were untouched. The people lived, worked and ate as they had before, only now there was a little more excitement for them in their daily lives.
As they moved out beyond the boundaries of the town, Yore had no walls, so there was no abrupt end, it just faded away, they entered the mud soaked fields that separated Robb's army from the town. Or rather, it had been a mud soaked field, when Robb had arrived a week ago. Now it was a small town of cloth and stands. First it had been enterprising townspeople who saw in the army a market for their goods. Then it had been traders and peddlers who had come to the town by chance and saw greater profit and security in selling to the northern army under the restraining orders of the king than risking more travel on the roads in time of war. Then the word had spread further and merchants huddling in castles and towns were coming to the Yore in order to make a living. It wasn't a bad business plan either, much of the northern army that Robb had brought with him by now had at least a small pouch of valuables, be the coin or trinkets looted from other encounters in the war. Robb hoped that he would not have to deal with someone trying to sell back to someone they had looted earlier on in the war. So far there had been no murders or maimings, and he was determined to keep it that way, even more so now that the market had grown. He could not travel to the southern half of the town, under the terms of the negotiation agreement, but they could, and he did not want them passing word of soldiers acting wildly, that he could not command his own men. If they did, when Tywin Lannister arrived with Joffrey's negotiating party, he would sense weakness and be emboldened by it. His army must be as iron as his will, as unflinching as his authority.
Olyvar looked up as Robb turned into the tent. "Is he still not here, Your Grace?"
"Still not," Robb said.
By now, Olyvar knew not to ask any more on the topic. "Have the outriders found anything?"
Fully aware that this could be a trap, Robb had kept his army on constant alert for any attempt to surround them here at Yore. So far there was nothing. He considered sending outriders south, as he did every evening, to see if there was any sign of the negotiators coming. There was technically nothing preventing him from doing so, provided they did not enter the town, but the spirit of negotiations mattered as much as the letter, so he would wait.
He hated waiting. He'd spent the last two years not waiting. He was always moving, always attacking, feinting. To wait was to allow your enemy to act, and he didn't like surrendering that to another. But sometimes, it was all you could do, and so Robb had spent the week waiting for his enemy to come so that they could discuss terms.
The next day, they came.
Robb first heard from the merchants that there were riders approaching the southern end of town. When he got to the bridge he was able to watch as heavily caparisonned warhorses carried knights and lords in shining armour with elaborate crests on their helms. They carried banners the size of sheets, the twinned lions and stag of King Joffrey, the pure lion of Lannister, the rose of House Tyrell and a dozen lower houses. They fanned out along the street either side of the river and planted the banners in the earth, the wind carried along the river snapped the cloth out and held it proud, it was an impressive display.
A single knight in the white plate of the Kingsguard took a step onto the bridge, removed his helm and placed it to the side, and took a second sword in his hand, the one at his belt remained sheathed. He then marched out to the middle of the crossing, drew his new sword and planted it on the ground.
Robb nodded, just as agreed. He took off his own longsword, not Ice, Ice would never leave his family again, and passed it to the SmallJon, of his personal guard.
Matching the knight, the SmallJon removed his helm and marched out across the bridge and planted Robb's sword, point down against the stone. No one moved, banner snapped, water flowed, and tension rose. Then, together, SmallJon and the Kingsguard grasped their royal swords by the blade and extended the handle to the other. They took the proffered blades, bowed respectfully, turned as one, and marched back to their end of the bridge.
"Your Grace," SmallJon offered him the sword. It was a fine blade with a rich, golden hilt. He took it. The symbolic exchanging of the swords done, he nodded.
Each side took a heavy table and moved it out to the centre of the bridge, lining them up so they met at the exact mid point. Then they brought out three chairs each for the negotiators and two cloth screens to put up on either side to provide a little cover from the wind. "It's happening, Edmure, Lord Karstark." One of his senior northern lords, and his most senior Riverlander Lord, they would join him at the negotiating table. His new kingdom.
As they approached the table, Robb saw who approached. One was Lord Tywin, unmistakably the one in the middle, flanked on one side by a knight in the green and gold of House Tyrell and on the other by a man not in knightly robes. By his golden hair, still a Lannister, but this must be the other representative of the King's Council he had demanded attend.
As they got closer to the table, everyone slowed down, tense and alert for any signs of betrayal. They stopped a step away from their chairs, locking eyes with their opposite numbers. Tywin's gold flecked eyes gave nothing away as Robb stared. No one moved for their seats. Finally, Edmure stepped forward, but instead of pulling out his own chair as he should have, he pulled out Robb's. "Your Grace," he said, bowing slightly.
Robb nodded at his uncle and sat down. Seizing the opportunity, he indicated for Lord Tywin Lannister to do the same.
Lord Tywin and his fellows took their seats. Robb didn't want to speak, neither did Tywin, they both knew it. But someone had to, so Robb sucked in a breath.
"Thank you for coming, representatives of King Joffrey. I pray that together, we can assume a just peace for both of our kingdoms."
"A just peace on fair terms," Tywin said with a voice of lead and sandpaper. "That is what we all desire⦠king Robb."
And so it began.
Robb thought it was going well when they had agreed firmly on the intended end goal of an independent North and Trident. But as soon as they got into the details, everything started bogging down. The first issue was the borders of that new kingdom. The North wasn't a problem, so separate it was from the rest of Westeros. But for three hundred years the Riverlands had bordered the Reach, the Crownlands, the Vale and the Westerlands. Villages had been transferred from one lord to another, irrespective of the borders from before Aegon's Conquest at the whims of capricious kings after rebellions and wars. Lord Tywin had come prepared for these arguments, presenting document after document detailing the transfer of acres, villages and towers from lords in the Riverlands to those in the neighbouring kingdoms. Robb could do little against these arguments. Tywin had the government documents to back up his claims of text. So Robb had to argue for the situation as it stood and his military advantage to make up the legalistic shortfall. After settling two cases, Robb got Tywin to agree to start moving west to east along the Riverlands border to have some logical movement to the argument. That made it easier for Robb, who, after several hours of wrangling, threatening and haggling, got Tywin to agree to dismiss all the land claims east of the westerlands mountain border and the Golden Tooth. They broke for lunch and then returned to start on the Reach, where the issue was far more thorny, with the border more fluid. By the time the sky darkene and both sides retired into their sides of the town, they had only settled the first two disputes.
Robb sat down with Edmure in his tent and sighed. "If we continue like this it will be weeks before we can even move on to the more substantial issues." Robb needed to settle matters like guarantee hostages, payments, rights of entry and tourney and tax duties. As long as they were focussing on these small issues, they couldn't."
"You know why they're doing it, don't you?" Edmure asked.
"I do," Robb said. The Lannisters were hoping for a change in the direction of their war against Stannis Baratheon. If they scored some successes there, the Lannisters could be tougher in their negotiations with Robb and force him to concede some ground or return to war. More things beyond his power.
"Is there anything you can do?"
Robb had considered it. But there was nothing. Anything he thought of would only disrupt the talks further. "No, we continue like this for now. The Lannisters are gambling that their situation is going to improve, we need to exploit the fact that right now it is in our favour. I will drive that sword, ram it to that hilt and ensure that when this negotiations ends, the North and Trident is truly free."
